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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118543">&amp; grace will lead us home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Episode: s10e18 Book of the Damned, Episode: s10e20 Angel Heart, Episode: s10e22 The Prisoner, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Profound Bond stuff, finale fix-it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:55:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have some of Cas’s grace?” Sam asks, his eyebrow raised. “Where?”</p><p>“Inside of me,” Dean says. “You don’t get rebuilt and then healed by a guy for twelve years without keeping some of that.”</p><p>And the guy loves you, Dean thinks. He doesn’t say that, though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>&amp; grace will lead us home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic is just a lot of me making stuff up about angelic grace and since i haven't seen the whole show maybe some of it is contradicted but also maybe not, who knows</p><p>title from amazing grace</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Angel blades aren’t, technically, blades. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>blades, but they aren’t made of any kind of metal, or made of any</span>
  <em>
    <span>thing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>really. They are, Cas explains one day, a few years down the road, in a lull between apocalypses, a manifestation of an angel’s grace. In their true forms, any angel can kill another angel. They don’t, usually, but there’s an extra bit of grace that manifests itself as a physical weapon when they’re on Earth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t always in our sleeves,” Cas says. “Well, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>always in the sleeve, but not physically. We manifest them when we need them. For example…” He takes off his trenchcoat, and then his suit jacket. He rolls up his shirt sleeve on his right arm, stopping at the elbow. His hand is empty. And then, suddenly, an angel blade slides from--somewhere--and lands in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come I can use one, then?” Sam asks, intrigued. “I have an angel blade--how come it’s not tied to the angel, if it’s part of their grace?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s difficult to explain in human terms,” Cas says. “Angels are soldiers, but we aren’t supposed to kill each other. However, our Father made us all easily access the way to do so. It’s different, in our true forms. On Earth, in vessels, it is similar to how if a human cuts their nails or hair, it doesn’t hurt, and can grow back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grow back?” Dean says. “So if I took your angel blade right now, you could generate a new one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not if it’s in the same room,” Cas says. “But maybe if you took my blade and left it in another building. This,” he gestures with the blade in his hand, “is certainly not the only angel blade I’ve had.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He flicks his wrist and the blade disappears. Dean had never really paid attention to where it went after Cas was done with it, but he guesses he always thought Cas stuck it back up his sleeve. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” he says. Sam, predictably, begins to geek out, and Dean sits back in his chair, crosses his arms behind his head, content to listen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time Cas uses his grace to heal Dean, Dean’s entire world is shattering around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam--Lucifer--has just gone into the Cage, dragged Adam--Michael--down with him. Dean is now down two brothers. Two brothers, and a father, and a--whatever Cas is, and his face and his everything hurts, and the victory of averting the apocalypse doesn’t feel that much like a victory. It just feels kind of shitty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kneels on the dying grass, wishing that he could’ve died, too, and then he--feels something. Or hears something, maybe. He turns his head, and standing over him is Cas--trenchcoated and stoic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas?” Dean asks. “You’re alive?” It feels impossible, but maybe--maybe if Cas is alive, then maybe something will be okay. Not everything, obviously, but--something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m better than that,” Cas says, and he reaches out a hand, touches Dean’s forehead. His touch is gentle, so gentle, and Dean instinctually closes his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, when Dean tries to remember this moment, to describe it for Lisa, he can’t find the words. It’s--he feels something, inside of him, swirling around under his skin and knitting him up, healing his injuries, erasing the blood from his face. He feels it, buzzing softly, and it’s warm and soft. But it also happens in the span of an instant, a single second, so quick that Dean’s not even sure what happened. He still feels kind of warm when Cas releases him, when Dean stands and watches Cas bring Bobby back to life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s mouth tastes kind of like he’s guzzled something carbonated, a pop or something, but he also feels--good. It’s weird. It’s sort of familiar, but it’s good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Cas is human, Dean can </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell, </span>
  </em>
  <span>somehow. There’s something missing from Cas, something faint and unknowable. Cas explains that his grace got stolen, which Dean guesses explains it, but he didn’t really know why he should be able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s not like he could look at angels and tell that that’s what they are. Why should Cas be any different?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He asks Sam about it, later, and Sam looks at him like he’s insane. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He just seems like Cas,” Sam says. “I mean, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>human, so maybe that’s what it is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Dean says. “No, it’s--it’s different. It’s something else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Sam says, rolling his eyes, and Dean thinks about asking Ezekiel if he knows, but decides against it. Cas is probably just holding himself differently, and Dean’s just reading too much into it all in his worry for the guy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever Dean and Cas touch, skin-to-skin, there’s a faint kind of buzz, somewhere between Dean’s blood and his skin. Kind of like a spark. Dean would chalk it up to the attraction that he barely admits to, but he’s been attracted to plenty of people before and never felt this. It’s not even metaphorical sparks, like with Lisa or Cassie, but like, an actual physical sensation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean never asks Cas about it, because what would he say? He imagines himself forming the words and has to laugh. It sounds insane, even in his own head. So he doesn’t say anything. But he wonders, sometimes, when Cas heals him and lets his hands linger, or when he lets Dean move him around (Dean knows Cas is letting him push or pull him, letting him touch him or elbow him or interact with him like a human being--the angel can be made of stone, when he wants to be)--sometimes he wonders if it’s not just in his head, if that feeling under his skin is something real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you,” Dean says, the words wrenching out from somewhere deep inside him, sticking in his teeth, but he has to get them out, has to make Cas </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cas drops the angel blade. He picks up the tablet, and a bright light shines, but Dean’s in too much pain to do much beyond closing his eyes, and the light fades. Dean tries to breathe--it’s hard. Cas has beat him up good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas?” Dean asks. “Cas?” Cas reaches out his arm, and Dean shies away, frantic. “No, Cas. Cas!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean is helpless to do anything besides cling weakly to Cas’s sleeve as his hand touches his face, still kneeling on the floor, his face tilted upward, and Cas’s hand cups Dean’s cheek tenderly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean feels it, then--Cas’s grace running through him, under his skin, patching and healing. It swirls, warm, and Dean breathes in, and out, finding the action suddenly easier. As always, it is instantaneous, and as always, Dean still feels Cas’s grace inside him when Cas’s hand pulls away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Cas says, voice broken, and Dean can only blink up at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell just happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean takes a swig of his beer and puts it down, swiveling around in his chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So how’s it feel?” Dean asks. “Having your own grace back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Cas says, then at Dean’s look he amends his statement. “Good. My remaining grace merged with what was left of Adina’s grace and should suit me well. My wings are still burnt out, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everyone’s wings are burnt out,” Sam says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah, what?” Charlie asks, looking between them all with wide eyes. “Th--the wings, I get, ‘cause all the angels fell, but grace?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Metatron stole my grace to cast the angels out, so I became human for a time,” Cas explains. “But then I stole Theo’s grace. It nearly burnt out so Crowley stole Adina’s grace and fed it to me until I regained my remaining grace today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you steal someone’s grace?” Charlie asks. “Isn’t that, like, a soul? Or am I totally wrong and it’s more like a shirt or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cas grimaces. “It is like a soul, kind of,” he says. “It is the source of our powers--kind of like our blood. It is possible to remove it without killing us, but it renders us almost entirely human.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas used his on you when he healed you,” Dean says, looking at Charlie sideways, curious. Somehow, he could tell that Cas had his own grace back. When he’d been on borrowed grace, it had been just like when Cas was human. Dean thinks maybe he can sense Cas’s grace somehow, which barely makes sense. Surely Cas has healed Sam a similar amount of times--why would Dean be so special as to feel it, to sense it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Charlie says. “That little fizz, was that your grace?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably,” Cas says. “I admit I’m not sure what it feels like, from a human perspective.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would agree with the fizz assessment,” Sam says. “Just a little spark, like a tiny electric shock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or like something warm is filling his veins and physically healing him. Like something is inside of him, taking care of him. It feels kind of loving, Dean thinks, but then he pushes that insane thought away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, something like that,” he says, before he takes a giant bite of pizza and looks away from Cas, who is very good at staring into his soul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Cas says neutrally. “I don’t think I experienced any electric shocks while human.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t missing much,” Sam says, and then conversation turns back to safer ground and Dean swallows his pizza and jumps back in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She loved me unconditionally. She forgave me. She only asked for one thing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To stop.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Cas says, his voice weakened from the fight. Dean’s arm is burning and his head is fuzzy and he’s just so angry. “Stop.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean turns around, and goes to punch Cas. He blocks it, and uses the leverage to turn Dean around, grab his arms. Dean headbutts him, escapes from his arms and brings his knee into the angel’s gut, then grabs him by the trenchcoat and throws him into a table. Dean walks over to him, grabs him and smashes his face into the table--one, two, three times, then flings him onto the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kneels and turns Cas around, reaches into his sleeve and pulls out the angel blade. Holds it over him, pointy end down. Dean grabs onto Cas’s tie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cas holds Dean’s wrist. Gentle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face is bloody, and his grip is gentle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Dean,” Cas says, pleads. “Please…” Dean’s hand shakes, and blood burbles out of Cas’s mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean brings down the blade and stands up, walks away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometime later, eons and months and years later, when the Mark is nothing but a really, really bad memory, Dean realizes that the only reason he was able to hurt Cas at all was because Cas </span>
  <em>
    <span>let </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. The Mark gave him a power boost, sure, but Cas still could’ve stopped him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Why would Cas </span>
  <em>
    <span>let </span>
  </em>
  <span>him? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around the third hole, as Dean’s lining up his shot, Claire leans against her club casually and asks, “So did he take you as a vessel, too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean fucks up his shot but doesn’t really care. He turns around and sees Claire’s casual air of nonchalance and narrows his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says. “Never been a vessel, don’t care to change that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then how come I can sense him all over you?” she asks, waving her hand. Dean shrugs and gestures for her to take her shot. He watches her line up the ball and club, and decides that he knows what she means. She, too, has some of Cas’s grace about her--just a little. Just enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s healed me a lot,” Dean says, finally. “I think some of his grace lingers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what, he never heals Sam?” Claire says skeptically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Dean says. “He did, ah, rebuild me, once. That probably took up more grace.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Claire asks, eyebrows raised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got pretty torn up by hellhounds,” Dean says dismissively. “Basically nothing left of my body.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you survived that?” Claire asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Dean says. “Obviously not, you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>survive </span>
  </em>
  <span>hellhounds.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, I don’t wanna know,” Claire says, and she turns to lead him down to continue their game. Dean taps the ball gently and misses the hole by about a mile. Claire looks like she’s gonna laugh at him, but she restrains herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was it like?” Dean asks. “Being a vessel? Your dad said it was like being chained to a comet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds right,” Claire says. “It was scary. Angels are--they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I was so small at the time. I remember--Castiel was going to stay in me and let Jimmy go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would’ve been weird,” Dean says, imagining running around with an angel in the body of a ten year old girl. He wonders if he would’ve been so attached to Cas without the whole “he’s very hot” part of it. Probably, but it still would’ve been strange.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Claire snorts, and she hits the ball right into the hole. She grins at him excitedly, and he smiles back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(What Dean doesn’t remember is this:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel, and his garrison, dive into Hell. They fight off demons and hellhounds and all manner of slimy hellscum, and Castiel pushes through infinite horrors to find the Righteous Man standing over a tortured soul. Castiel had no expectations that the Righteous Man would be on the rack or off of it, so the fact that he is doing the torturing is no matter. His soul burns bright like a beacon, and Castiel reaches out for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No matter what Heaven says, this beautiful soul does not belong in Hell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel lays a hand on the Righteous Man, and the human soul collides with angelic grace, and Castiel is--</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel holds the Michael Sword in his arms, and he rises above the swarms of Hell, and he yells.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel has many arms, and he cradles Dean Winchester tenderly in some of them, and uses others to rebuild his body, atom by atom, cell by cell. It is a lot of grace, but grace willingly given for this man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel can see his dreams and thoughts and memories, and he tries not to look too hard out of respect--nobody has told Castiel he is allowed to view these things, so it must not be allowed. But the things he cannot help but see make Dean Winchester more beautiful. Castiel has not known many humans, and he supposes that James Novak should be his favorite one because James Novak can be of the most use to him, but he already knows that he is--compromised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I HAVE REMADE YOUR BODY, Castiel tells Dean Winchester. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why me? Dean Winchester asks. Save my dad, instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>NO, DEAN WINCHESTER, Castiel says. I REMADE YOUR BODY WITH MY GRACE. YOU WILL AVERT THE APOCALYPSE. YOU WILL BE THE SWORD OF MICHAEL. I WILL PROTECT YOU. DO NOT BE AFRAID. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re crazy, Dean Winchester says. I’m not afraid of anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel can tell that Dean Winchester is lying, but it is time to put the two pieces together. Castiel brings the soul around and lays it down overtop of the remade body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I WILL MAKE YOU FORGET THIS, DEAN WINCHESTER, Castiel says. MY TRUE FORM CANNOT BE COMPREHENDED WITH HUMAN EYES.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t want to forget, Dean Winchester says. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Angels do not blush, and they do not get attached to humans, and they do not leave a mark on the flawless skin of the body they’ve rebuilt, sealing their grace inside, and they do not let their grace linger every other time they heal the Righteous Man, and they do not rebel against Heaven, but Castiel does all of those things anyway.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I found something,” Sam says, and Dean almost knocks over his chair in his rush to get to his brother’s side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is a spell for getting people out of the Empty,” Sam says, eyes skimming over the page. When Dean tries to read it, it looks like gibberish. Stupid witch book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Dean asks. “What do we need to get?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Sam says slowly. “It doesn’t actually say how to open the Empty, just how to get someone from it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And?” Dean says, impatient. Sam turns to look at him, eyes huge. Something in Dean’s stomach sinks, but he refuses to give up hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It says you need something--a part of whoever you’re retrieving. Like blood or grace or something.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Dean says, sitting back down. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, I’m sorry,” Sam says. Dean closes his eyes, massages his head, takes a deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why be sorry?” Dean says. “We have this--” He pats the shoulder of his jacket. “And I’ve got a bunch of grace. This is good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>have Cas’s grace?” Sam asks, his eyebrow raised. “Where?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Inside of me,” Dean says. “You don’t get rebuilt and then healed by a guy for twelve years without keeping some of that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the guy loves you, Dean thinks. He doesn’t say that, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Sam says. He looks at his hands. “So do I…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe a bit,” Dean says, shrugging. “But you know--’profound bond’, or whatever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Sam says, eyes narrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Plus, you know, you had some leftover grace from Gadreel, so Claire has some, too,” Dean says. “If we need more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I get it,” Sam says. “Jeez. Okay. Let’s, uh, find a portal into the Empty, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Dean says, and he turns back to his neglected and so far useless book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They already knew this, but finding a way into the Empty isn’t easy. Eileen goes and rustles up a few demons to ask them but they don’t know anything. Sam asks Rowena but she hasn’t heard anything, either. Dean doesn’t know who to ask--with every breath and motion he’s praying to Cas, asking him to hold on, to just wait it out, he’ll be there soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I almost think we should ask Chuck,” Sam says one day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, no,” Dean says. “That’s a horrible idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Sam says, sighing. Dean entertains it, for a moment--he’ll do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get Cas back, and if asking Chuck is what they have to do--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack,” Dean says. Sam blinks at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve tried that,” Sam says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve tried that, too,” Dean says. “But uh--our son, who art in heaven, although you have a no-interference policy, please send us a sign, or helpful hint, or something to point us in the right direction of opening a door to the Empty. Please. Amen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing happens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like the ‘our son who art in heaven’, that’s creative,” Sam says, and Dean says, “It was worth a shot.” He reopens the dusty old book about Purgatory that he’s been reading, even though he doesn’t really think it will have anything helpful, and a key falls out of the book. Dean picks it up, certain that it wasn’t there a second ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at this,” he says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the key to Death’s library,” Sam says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack put it there,” Dean says. “He’s telling us to ask Death.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Death died,” Sam says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, there’s a new one,” Dean says. “Or maybe Jack brought Betty back. Come on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, Sam’s pushing the key in the wall, and opening the door, and then--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone steps out, closes the door behind them. It’s a dude who looks kinda like he could be thirty and kinda like he could be sixty, dressed in a black sweater and dark jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he says. “I’m the new Death. I, uh, would rather if you didn’t go into my library. They warned me about you, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s ‘they’?” Dean asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The warning was probably warranted,” Sam says. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> been involved in the deaths of the last three Deaths. But, uh, we wanted to ask if you could open a door to the Empty for us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why should I do that?” Death asks, crossing his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We promise we won’t kill you if you do,” Dean says. “Or call you. Or anything.” He thinks of the job application on his desk, and what Cas last said to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You both promise?” Death asks. “What if Eileen Leahy dies again? Or Claire Novak? Or someone else you care about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll leave it alone,” Sam says. “We promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dean says, trying not to think about stuff like Claire dying. “We promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Death says. “Fine. I would rather start on the good side of the Winchesters, anyway, although I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’d want to get into the Empty. Everyone in there hates you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not everyone,” Dean says, and Death points across the room. A big black circle opens up across from them. It crackles with energy, but it also has a faint pull to it, like a vacuum or something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you go in, you’ll be alone in there,” Death says. “Unless you have someone’s blood or something, but you’d still need an anchor in the real world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dean says. He reaches his hand up to touch the handprint on his shoulder. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks over to the portal and lifts up his hand, concentrating. He’s always been able to feel the grace Cas left in him, but now he wonders--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand glows with a soft, blueish white light, and Dean grins. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Sammy,” he says. “You make sure I’m anchored, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow and holding on to Dean’s other shoulder. Dean wraps his left hand around Sam’s shirt, holds on tight, and sticks his right hand into the portal, still glowing softly, tingling with the power of Cas’s grace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, all his hand feels is cold, but then there is fabric, under his hand. His shoulder burns. Dean’s fingers curl, tightening his grip, and he yanks, pulling with all his might, and stumbling back into Sam, pulling--pulling--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam helps him, using Dean’s grip on his shirt to his advantage, and they pull Cas out of the Empty, together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he’s through, the portal snaps shut, and Dean drops to the floor, cradles Cas to his chest. The angel is sleeping, and Dean releases his hand from his shoulder, finding that he’s left his own handprint on Cas’s shoulder. He laughs wetly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas, wake up,” he says. “Cas!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, nothing happens, but then he stirs under Dean’s hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean?” he says, his eyes opening just a sliver. “Dean, you….you rescued me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you think I would just leave you?” Dean asks. “You stupid son of a bitch, you left before I could say anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cas tilts his head and Dean laughs again, lowers his head to press their foreheads together. The familiar spark of grace touching grace fills him, and Dean nearly cries. He’d thought--he’d thought he wouldn’t feel that again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas,” he says, in the small space between them. “Of course you can have me. You’ve always had me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Cas says again, lifting his hand to cradle Dean’s cheek. Dean might be crying. “How did you get me out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You left enough grace inside of me that I was able to find you,” Dean says. “You--all those times you healed me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Cas breathes. “I didn’t know. I just wanted to be with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Dean says. “I know. I needed it, huh? So I could save you? Grip you tight and raise you from perdition?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Cas says. “Come here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean leans down obediently, and Cas kisses him. It feels like--it feels like a kiss, but Dean can also feel the grace, sparking between them, and it feels different, somehow, better--and Cas kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him, and Sam coughs awkwardly. Dean and Cas break apart, and Dean holds himself still, unsure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still...here,” Sam says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, hello, Sam,” Cas says. “It’s good to see you again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he’s not looking at Sam, the full intensity of his gaze directly on Dean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean blushes, and Cas wipes away one of Dean’s tears. Guess he was crying, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, you too,” Sam says. “Death left, and I guess I will...also...do that. Have fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean hears the door shut, and then he drops his forehead back to Cas’s and laughs. He’s unable to do anything else, but Cas laughs with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How stupid are we?” Dean asks. He readjusts so he’s not really holding Cas anymore, pulling him so they sit across from each other. “How long has it been, twelve fuckin’ years?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Cas says, smiling and reaching his hand out to cup Dean’s cheek again. He gives him another brief kiss, then he stands up, pulling Dean with him. His smile fades. “So...Chuck….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Dean says, and he kisses the frown away. “No. We solved that. Chuck’s human now, Jack is God, and I got a dog.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You--okay,” Cas says. “I want to meet it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duh,” Dean says. He kisses Cas again, because he can, and Cas wraps his arms around him, holds him tight. Dean is helpless to do anything besides hold him back, and he promises himself--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he’s never letting go.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! comments/kudos always appreciated!!</p><p>you can find me @deanspurpleflannel on tumblr</p></blockquote></div></div>
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